


Talk to Me

by serafina20



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-22
Updated: 2011-04-22
Packaged: 2017-10-18 12:05:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serafina20/pseuds/serafina20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsey calls Angel Investigations, needing to hear a familiar voice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Shelly for beta work.

 

The phone rang just as Wesley shook a pain pill from the bottle and  
was getting ready to put it in his mouth. Sighing in frustration, he  
considered ignoring the phone before putting the pill back and  
picking up the offending instrument.

"Angel Investigations," he said, shifting his weight from leg to  
leg. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at not adding Cordelia's "we  
help the hopeless" tag, and yet, somehow, he just couldn't quite  
bring himself to say it.

There was silence on the line.

"Hello?" Wesley said. "Is anyone there?"

"Is Angel there?" a slightly hoarse, male voice asked.

"No, he's out."

"Oh," came the disappointed response. There was another pause,  
before the voice asked, "What about Cordelia?"

Wesley tilted his head. "I'm sorry, she's gone home for the night.  
Is there anything I can do to help?"

Silence again. Wesley was about to say something when the voice  
said," It's just that, well, I wanted to hear a familiar voice. I  
don't know yours all that well."

"What for?" Wesley asked suspiciously. "Who is this?"

"No one. Never mind. Sorry to bother you. Listen, when you see  
Angel, tell him I said good-bye."

Even years later Wesley was never quite sure *how * he knew who was  
on the other end of the line but, in a flash of insight, he simply  
knew who it was. "Lindsey! Wait. Don't hang up."

He held his breath, waiting to discover if his intuitive guess was  
indeed correct.

After a long silence that was broken only by the sound of someone  
breathing, Lindsey asked, "How did you know it was me?"

"I'm not sure," Wesley responded, wondering that himself. "I just .  
. .realized it, I suppose."

"Oh."

Wesley sat on the desk and thought about what he should say. He  
wasn't completely sure why he had stopped Lindsey from hanging up.  
It was not as if he really cared anything about the former lawyer.  
Beyond the fact that he was as close to being evil as any human could  
be and had a lovely singing voice, Wesley didn't know anything about  
him.

But, he did recognize the thin edge of desperation in Lindsey's tone  
and responded strongly to that.

"Why do you need to talk to Angel?" Wesley finally asked.

Lindsey sighed. "I just . . .I don't know. I'm alone out here,  
don't know anyone. The night seems . . . big. I needed something  
familiar."

"Ah." The funny thing was, Wesley understood the feeling. He too  
had spent many nights, alone and frightened, feeling the vastness of  
the world around him and how powerless he was. To many nights of  
counting the sins of his past with no one he could confide in to  
relieve the burden somewhat. Too many. . .

Yes, Wesley understood the feeling so he really meant it when he  
said, "I'm sorry he's not here."

"Where is he?"

"Out fighting with Gunn. A demon. He and Gunn are not fighting.  
Each other that is. Is there anything *I * can do?" Wesley finished,  
feeling flustered and stupid.

"Talk to me?" was the hesitant answer.

Talk to him. A simple request. It wasn't as if Wesley had anything  
better to do. And, he was afraid he knew what was going on. After  
all, he was a close acquaintance with helplessness and, personal  
feelings for Lindsey aside, the man was still a human being in need  
of help. And Wesley was born to help.

"Talk to you. About what?" he asked pseudo-casually.

"Anything." The lawyer sounded a touch desperate. "Just please don't  
leave me alone. I might do something stupid." Wesley heard Lindsey  
take a deep breath. "I'm holding a knife."

Wesley's breath caught at that fatal pronouncement. There was no  
anger in Lindsey's tone, just a simple, straightforward declaration  
of the facts.

"I'm holding a knife."

The former Watcher had to fight to keep his voice steady. "Will you  
put it down?" His hands began to shake, ever so slightly.

There was a pause. "I don't know if I should," was the careful  
response. "I. . . I think this might be better."

"Lindsey, put the knife down, talk to me." Wesley said forcefully.  
As long as he could keep Lindsey talking, things might be all right.  
He just needed him to put down the knife.

"No. I . . . .I don't deserve it, you know. Anything. Do you know  
what I've done?" A wildness began creeping into his tone.

"I have an idea. But killing yourself is not the answer. Nor is  
attempting to cut your hand off." Wesley stuffed his unoccupied hand  
into his pockets, trying to ignore the tremors.

There were a few pants then, "It's not mine. Not really. It was  
his. And because of me, they stuck him in a tube and started hacking  
him to pieces. He was like some fucking piece of meat. What kind of  
monsters do that? I mean, he was *alive * Wesley. Alive. Alive to  
tell me to kill him. And I couldn't save him, I couldn't. So now  
he's dead and I'm wearing this poor man's hand and I know I don't  
deserve it. I'm not a good person."

Wesley closed his eyes, picturing Lindsey in front of him. In his  
imagination, the knife was pressed to Lindsey's wrist while the man  
cradled the phone between his neck and head. The only thing keeping  
him alive was the connection to another living being. And Wesley,  
nerves wracked, totally untrained and completely unsuited to deal  
with another person's potential suicide, was the one who had to keep  
the connection. "Lindsey, you can't change what happened. Wolfram  
and Hart did not start harvesting body parts from living people  
because of you. You just happened to be a recipient. And, what's  
more, you happened to be the recipient who asked where it came from."

"Only because I thought it was evil."

"You still asked," insisted Wesley. "And you still did what was right  
without hesitation."

"I hesitated. I asked Angel what to do. I didn't know. What kind of  
person doesn't know?"

The former watcher chewed on his bottom lip. "Did you want to leave  
him there? Any of them?"

There was a long silence.

"Lindsey?" Wesley asked, a note of panic creeping into his voice.

"No," the lawyer answered finally. "I didn't want to leave him. But  
I worked for the people who did that. If I turned myself in for the  
crimes I have committed, they would give me the death penalty."

"But that's not necessarily justice. It is punishment, yes, and you  
should atone for your crimes. But not with death. There is a  
difference between the law and justice. I'm sure even you know that."

There was a pause before Lindsey asked, "But a life for a life,  
right? How do you go about paying for a bunch of lives?"

"Not by killing yourself. That is not the answer." Wesley was  
pacing now, nerves wracked, forcefully trying to keep his voice  
calm. "Lindsey, put the knife down now."

There was a tense moment of silence. Wesley could feel his heart  
pounding, the sweat beading on his upper lip before Lindsey angrily  
said," Fine. Ow!"

"What did you do?" demanded Wesley.

After the space of a few heartbeats the answer was given. "I cut  
myself."

Wesley closed his eyes. "On purpose?"

"Yeah." His tone was very guilty.

"And?"

Lindsey laughed ruefully. "It hurts."

Wesley nodded. An intense wave of relief rolled over him as the  
tension broke and he  
sat in his chair weakly. "Yes, it would. I hope you have learned  
your lesson. Are you hurt badly?"

"No. Well, kinda, but I'll live. I just need to bandage it up."

"Do you think you need to go to the hospital?"

"If I go then I'll have to hang up with you. I can handle this."

The former watcher pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Good."  
Wesley blotted his upper lip, wondering why he had been chosen for  
this duty. Then, he remembered he hadn't, not really. Lindsey was  
only talking to him because Angel was not present.

He reached for the pill bottle and pulled out a pill.

"Wesley? Are you still there?"

Wesley's hand closed around the pill as he answered, "Yes. What do  
you want me to do?"

"I don't know. Just talk to me, I guess. Keep me here. I'm. . .  
.I'm afraid." The last part came out rushed, as if it were hard for  
the lawyer to admit.

"All right." Wesley thought a moment. "What should we talk about?"

"Anything. I don't care. How's things in Los Angeles?"

Wesley closed his eyes and rested his head against his fist. "All  
right, I guess. Lilah Morgan has taken over your position."

"Yeah, I know. I made sure they were going to give it to her before  
I left. How's she doing?"

"Well, she hasn't your brilliance, but she's . . .well, let's just  
say that since you've been gone, they haven't been half the threat  
they used to be. Thank you for leaving."

Lindsey laughed softly. "You're welcome. I had to go. After seeing  
what I saw and knowing what I do I just couldn't stay." He  
hesitated. "I . . .Listen, could we talk about something else?"

"Of course." Wesley nodded even though he knew Lindsey couldn't see  
him. "What would you like to talk about?"

"I don't know." Lindsey sighed, obviously frustrated. "Uh, do you  
like 'Friends?'"

"The television show?"

"Yes."

Wesley smiled and dropped the pill back in the bottle. Leaning  
against his chair, he responded," As a matter of fact, I do."

* * *

"Wesley, what are you still doing here?" Angel asked.

Wesley awoke with a start. He was asleep on his desk, phone buzzing  
next to him, drool trailing down his chin. Rubbing the sleep from  
his eyes, he looked around, taking in his surrounding. "I . . .I  
must have fallen asleep. What time is it?" He checked the phone  
before hanging up.

"Almost five."

"Oh." He yawned. "Did you and Gunn find the demon?"

"Yes, we did." Angel cocked his head, looking at Wesley carefully.  
"You look beat. Are you all right?"

The former Watcher stretched, working the kinks from his neck.  
"After a fashion. The desk is rather uncomfortable."

"I'll take your word for it." Angel's eyes gazed searchingly at  
Wesley, then scanned the desk. "What were you working on?"

"Nothing," yawned Wesley. Then, "Someone called. They needed help.  
I dealt with it."

"Then fell asleep?" Angel sounded amused, as if he were talking to a  
wayward child.

Sighing, Wesley reached for his medication and poured three pills  
into his hand. He swallowed them without benefit of water and rose,  
"Yes. It was a long conversation. May I use your shower?"

"You can go home if you'd like to. I mean, if you're not feeling  
well, there's no reason for you to stick around. I can call you if  
anything big happens." The vampire sounded almost hopeful to Wesley's  
ears.

"No, I'm fine. I just need a shower and shave to feel more like  
myself, that's all," he all but snapped. Closing his eyes, Wesley  
counted to ten, forcing himself to relax. "My side hurts from  
sleeping like this. I'm fine."

Angel shrugged. "If you say so. When did the doctor say the pain  
will go away? I mean, it's been kind of awhile."

"It will go away when it goes away. I'm fine." Wesley walked passed  
Angel,  
tucking the medicine bottle into his pocket.

As he left the room, he thought he heard Angel sigh and say, "I wish  
I could believe you," but it was probably just his imagination.

 

The phone rang, echoing strangely in the lobby of the Hyperion.

"Angel Investigations."

"Hi, Wesley? It's Lindsey."

Wesley, who had been lounging on the couch indolently, sat up,  
suddenly alert. "Lindsey. Hi. Are you all right?"

"Um," he sounded sheepish. "I had a nightmare. But, it was really  
bad. I mean, I wouldn't call unless . .except it was . . .look, I'm  
probably bothering you. I'm sorry. I'll just . . ."

"Lindsey, stay on the line. Don't hang up," Wesley said quickly,  
doing his best to sound comforting. It had been almost two weeks  
since Lindsey's suicide attempt and Wesley had been concerned about  
him. "I understand about nightmares. Bad ones."

After a moment's pause, Lindsey asked gently, "Faith?"

Wesley sighed and rested against the back of the couch. "Yes. Among  
other things."

Lindsey was silent for a moment. Wesley could hear the rustling of  
sheets over the line.

"Where are you?" Wesley asked curiously.

"Arkansas. Last time I was in New Mexico. I'm making my way east. I  
don't know what I'm doing yet. When I hit New York, I figure  
something will happen. Maybe I'll die."

"Please don't seek death out. Please." Wesley heard his worried and  
pleading tone and wondered at it.

Apparently Lindsey did too because he asked," Why do you care?" He  
sounded both annoyed and pleased.

The former Watcher hesitated. "I don't know," he replied honestly.  
"Maybe it's just in my nature to care."

"Oh." There was a beat of silence as Lindsey digested this. "I'm  
glad someone can. I certainly can't seem too."

Wesley considered this a moment before replying honestly," Lindsey, I  
have a feeling that you may care all too much."

This time there was a long silence. The lawyer didn't seem to know  
how to respond. Finally, he asked, "Where are Angel and the others?"

"Out. Cordelia is at a fabulous party. It's been awhile since she's  
been to one; she was so pleased she was practically glowing. Gunn  
and Angel are rescuing some demon slaves from their oppressors."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"Angel felt it best that I stay behind," answered Wesley, rubbing his  
eyes wearily. "He didn't think I was alert enough."

"Not alert? Are you tired or something?"

"No. I think he can tell when I've gone over the recommended limit  
of pills and uses it as an excuse to leave me behind."

"Pills?" Lindsey sounded confused.

Wesley froze, realizing his mouth was running away without his  
brain. "Yes," he replied carefully.

"What kind?"

"Um, well, pain medication."

"For what?"

"Well, I was shot."

There was a pause before Lindsey remarked, "You were shot about four  
months ago. It still hurts?"

Wesley sighed. "It never stops."

"How many pills are you taking a day?" His tone was very stern.

The former watcher hesitated before saying, "Three."

"Three?"

"Or four."

"Four."

"Sometimes."

"And the rest of the time?"

"I don't know. Seven? Eight?"

"Or ten?"

"Not always. But, once or twice."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Wesley!" Lindsey exploded. "Are you fucking  
insane?"

"No, I . . ."

"I'm going to call Angel. Tomorrow and . ."

"Don't! He knows!" Wesley leapt to his feet, pacing. "What is your  
calling going to accomplish? He knows, all right, and he doesn't  
care. Besides, what the hell do you care?" Wesley fired back. "You  
don't even know me."

"No, but I know about addiction. Even not counting everything I did  
in college and my first few years with the firm to help me move up  
and get through the night, all last summer I was hooked on pain  
medication. Did you notice that I disappeared? Part of that time I  
was in the firm's rehab center. The hospital prescribed them to me  
for the pain, but what they didn't know is that the firms healers  
were taking care of it with magic.  
But I was fucked up, so angry and depressed, so I took the pills."  
He took a deep and audible breath. "They make you feel good, I  
know. Real good. Everything goes away and you just float. It's the  
best feeling in the world. But they're a bitch, Wesley, because soon  
you need them all the time. Life becomes unbearable unless you have  
that defense. Then you stop caring. About anything. Your life  
becomes the idea of living, the shadow. You might do things out of  
habit, but you don't care; all you want is you next  
pill. Trust me, you don't want to be dependent on them. They don't  
really make life better; it just gets worse." Lindsey sighed. "I  
needed them because I hated everything. You shouldn't; you're one of  
the good guys."

"But I do," replied Wesley softly. "Nothing makes sense anymore. I  
just .. .for awhile, I was important. I was the leader. Cordelia  
and Gunn looked to me for guidance, to me for strength. We all  
depended on each other, but * I* was the leader. Now, I'm a sham.  
They don't really listen to me, or won't, soon. Angel has already  
stolen Cordelia away and soon he will have Gunn as well. Angel won't  
listen to me, or when he does, he has this condescending attitude  
about him. Deep inside, he *still * thinks I'm his faithful servant,  
and I can't be that for him anymore. He knows something is wrong  
with me, but he doesn't care enough to find out. One day I'm going  
to come into the office and none of them will need me. And it hurts,  
Lindsey, so badly I can barely stand it. It's one thing to always  
yearn to be important, to be someone, and never get to taste the  
beauty and the  
freedom of achieving your time in the sun. But to have it, for such  
a brief moment, and then for it to be taken away . . .it's the worst  
feeling in the world."

Lindsey sighed sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I wish I knew how to  
make it better. But, you all have only been back together for a few  
months. Give it time. Get off the pills. Drugging yourself isn't  
going to let you keep your position. It's just going to give him an  
excuse to take over again. And as for Angel. . .fuck him. I mean,  
not literally," Lindsey sounded suddenly flustered, "but, just keep  
reminding everyone who is in charge and, eventually you won't have to  
remind them. Just, please, please get off the pills."

Wesley sat down again, leaning his head against the cushions. He was  
breathing heavily, tears threatening. "I'll think about it." Then,  
uncomfortable with the conversation, Wesley asked," Have you been  
playing?" he asked. "Music, that is."

"No." Lindsey sounded thrown and mildly upset. "I . . .I can't. I  
thought it would be easy, but . . ."

Wesley nodded in understanding. "I really think you should."

"You do?" Lindsey sounded amazed.

"Yes. You have a marvelous talent and, even though I know you feel  
you don't deserve it, you've been given a second chance to share it  
with the world. Take it."

Lindsey paused a moment before saying, "I'll think about it. Maybe I  
will."

"You'll call me if you do?" Wesley sounded almost hopeful. As insane  
as it was, he found comfort in talking to Lindsey.

"Yeah. I will," Lindsey responded, a smile in his voice. "So," he  
asked, changing the subject, "did you see 'Friends' the other night?"

"Yes. Who the hell was Rachel sleeping with?"

"Yeah, I don't know," Lindsey responded. "I've been trying to figure  
it out."

"Do you think it was Joey?"

"Naw. I'm thinking Gunther," the lawyer said.

"Gunther?! Does she even really know that he's a man?"

"Well, he was wearing a mask, obviously."

Wesley looked at the phone incredulously. "I beg your pardon?"

There was a grin in Lindsey's voice when he said, "Let me explain my  
theory."

The former watcher smiled and lay back on the couch, stretching out.  
"You do that," he said, making himself comfortable.  
* * *  
Angel walked into the lobby, immediately sensing another person.  
Sniffing the air as he went further in, he relaxed, recognizing the  
sent. Wesley.

The former Watcher was deeply asleep on the couch, stretched out,  
shoes off,  
phone pressed to his ear.

Angel sighed. He could still smell the drugs in his friend's system,  
fainter now, but still present, as always.

Except, he supposed that Wesley was not his friend. Not anymore,  
maybe not ever again. And that was the problem. Angel had known how  
to fix things with Cordelia, was making a start with Gunn, but had no  
idea how to proceed with Wesley. He was lost. And every day he had  
to watch Wesley slip further and further away from Angel, away from  
the world.

Once upon a time, Angel had liked the dreamy expression Wesley's  
countenance sometimes took on. It signaled that the young man was  
imagining something, thinking of something that could be wonderful,  
could be perfect, but was private. Most important, it meant that  
Wesley was happy, just for a moment, and the clouds that had been  
fogging his eyes since his arrival were banished.

Now, however, the expression was appearing too much and had nothing  
to do with the former Watcher dreaming. That is, dreaming anything  
that was not drug induced.

It frightened Angel but he didn't know what to do.

Deciding not to wake Wesley, he went upstairs and pulled a blanket  
off his bed. Walking back to the lobby, he gently took the phone  
from the sleeping Watcher and covered him with the blanket. Walking  
to the front desk, he put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he said softly.

There was no answer.

Shrugging, Angel hung up, switched the lights out, and went upstairs  
to bed.

 

"Ok, they are at 414 Alhambra," Cordelia said.

"So the attack going to happen sometime tonight?" Angel asked,  
writing the  
address down.

The seer nodded. "They were in a bank and on the wall I caught the  
date." She rubbed her forehead and sighed.

"This is good. Gunn and I will go down around seven, check it out."

Wesley, leaning against the front desk, cradling his head with his  
hands, looked up. "I'll go too."

Angel shook his head. "Why don't you stay here? Or go home? Get  
some rest. Eat something."

"Yeah, Wes. You need food," Gunn said. "You've lost so much weight  
that Cordelia is jealous. And if I have to listen to her bitch about  
it one more time.. . ."

"Excuse me," Cordelia interrupted archly, raising an eyebrow. "I  
have no trouble with my weight, so I never worry. Besides, if I lost  
as much as him, I'd be freaked." She looked pointedly at the donuts  
that Angel had bought and set on the desk.

Wesley ignored her gaze. "I'm fine. Let me go." He winced, hating  
the fact that he sounded as if he were begging.

Gunn shrugged. "It's ok with me. We can get food on the way to the .  
. ."

"No. He stays here," said Angel firmly, eyes on Wesley.

Wesley pushed away from the front desk. "Fine. But report back to me  
while you're out. I *am * still in charge. Excuse me." The former  
Watcher left the lobby, heading for the bathroom. On the way, he  
pulled out his medication and downed four pills.

He closed the door firmly, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his  
shirt. He couldn't breath. Everything was a mess. Once again,  
Wesley had lost control. It was just like before, back in Sunnydale,  
except then he had never gotten the chance to be in charge. His life  
was one big fuck-up.

Wesley leaned over the sink and splashed water on his face. Rising,  
he looked at his reflection.

He *had * lost a lot of weight, his face thin and pinched behind his  
glasses, his clothes baggy. It was to be expected, of course, since  
he rarely ate. He wasn't hungry, that was all. Nothing tempted him.

Nothing at all, not sweets, not fruits, not meat, not anything.

"Your life becomes the idea of living, the shadow," Lindsey's words  
floated  
back to him.

"Oh my God," Wesley whispered. "Lindsey was right." It wasn't just  
the food, it was everything. He didn't care about anything except  
not hurting. He didn't even really care about going out, maintaining  
his position. Wesley just knew that it was what he was supposed to  
want, so he went through the motions.

The realization settled in his stomach unpleasantly. Kneeling, he  
put the seat of the toilet up and forced himself to throw up the  
pills.

When he was done retching, shaking and sweating, he managed to open  
the bottle of pills and pour them into the toilet. Flushing, he  
leaned against the wall, gasping for air, the sour taste of resolve  
in his mouth.

He was through.

*  
* *

"Wesley, you don't have to be here," said Angel as Wesley walked into  
the office, sweating profusely.

"Fuck you."

Angel, mindful of the fact that Gunn and Cordelia would be arriving  
soon, grabbed the former Watcher, and pulled him into Wesley's  
office. Throwing the ill man into his chair, Angel said furiously,  
"What the fuck do you want from me? Huh? Why don't you just tell me  
because I don't know what to do here. You are acting like a royal  
brat! You're sick and whiny and. . .and bad tempered. And you act  
like you're blaming me, like this is all my fault. You did this to  
yourself by popping those pills and . . .

"You knew! I knew you knew!" Wesley rose, his face turning red.  
"You fucking bastard! Did it ever occur to you to try and stop me?"

"Stop you? How? You're an adult, I can't just tell you what to do."  
Angel rubbed his temples. "I thought that by not allowing you to  
fight, by not allowing you to participate in our work that you would  
come to the conclusion yourself that the pills weren't the way to  
go. I expected you to be responsible and stop taking them."

Wesley gazed at Angel in amazement. "You what? You expected what?  
Why didn't you just tell me to stop? Let me know that you cared  
enough to be worried? I'll tell you why: because you really don't  
care. You were hoping that I would drug myself into insensibility so  
you could take my position away from me just like you took Cordelia  
and . ."  
.

"I didn't take Cordelia! I wanted her to forgive me so I . . ."

"Why don't you want me to forgive you?" Wesley screamed, tears  
spilling out of his eyes. "I'm angry at you too! I hate you too!  
But you just assumed that I would always be yours, didn't you? I am  
*not * yours anymore, Angel. I fell out of love with you. I've  
been disillusioned. I've grown up." His stomach heaved a few times,  
but he managed to keep his food down.

Angel ran his hand through his hair, biting his lip. For a moment,  
he didn't say anything, just watched Wesley as he stood here,  
breathing heavily, anger coursing though his veins. "I didn't know  
how," he finally admitted quietly. "I knew how angry you were and  
was scared. Of you. I wanted so badly to make things right with  
you, but didn't have the first clue how. You're so good at hiding  
things, your feelings and . .I knew that although you seemed to  
accept me, that you hadn't. And I didn't realize . . .you were in  
love with me?"

Wesley slid weakly to the floor, leaning his back against the desk.  
"In an idealized fantasy kind of way. But, more importantly, I  
thought I was your friend. And you rejected me."

"I'm sorry. I am, truly sorry. Tell me, how can I make this up to  
you?"

"You don't respect me, Angel. Ever since you came back, even before  
the pills, I never felt that you did." The gray eyes looked into  
Angel's "Please, I know that I don't deserve any respect after this .  
. .after allowing myself to become so dependent on these drugs, but  
at least make me feel as if you respect me as a human. At the very  
least."

The vampire nodded and gently reached out to touch Wesley. "I can do  
that. I do respect you, Wesley. I really do," The phone rang. Angel  
brushed his fingers through Wesley's hair, then reached up to answer  
the phone. "Angel Investigations." A moment later, he glanced down  
at the shaking man. "Can you take a call?"

Wesley reached his hand up. "Hello?" he said into the receiver.

"Hi, Wesley. It's Lindsey."

"I hate you!" Wesley snapped. Then, "No, I don't. I'm sorry.  
Please don't  
hang up."

There was the briefest of pauses before Lindsey asked, "Did you go  
off the pills?"

"Two days ago. I hate this. Oh fuck." He quickly sat up, grabbed  
the waste basket, and threw up.

Angel was at his level immediately, supporting him, stroking him and  
making soothing sounds. When Wesley was done, he leaned against  
Angel weakly, bringing the phone back to his ear. "I really hate  
this," he said again.

"Do you want me to call back later?" asked Lindsey.

"No. I can't do this alone. Please stay with me."

"Yeah, I will."

"Hold on." He pulled the phone away and looked up at Angel. "I need  
some privacy."

The vampire shook his head. "Not here. Hang up and have him call my  
private line. Upstairs. You'll be more comfortable in my room. If  
Cordelia or Gunn asks, I'll just say you weren't feeling well, or  
something. They'll understand."

Wesley shook his head. "I feel like an idiot."

"You're not."

Sighing, Wesley brought the phone back to his ear. "Um . . .can you  
call me back?"

"Yeah," answered Lindsey.

Wesley gave him the other number and hung up. With Angel's help he  
rose, walking to the door.

"Who is that, anyway? The voice sounded familiar."

Wesley gave his friend a ghost of a smile. "Just a friend." With  
that elusive answer, he left.

Moments after he lay down in Angel's bed, the phone rang. "Hello?"

"It's me," Lindsey said. "How are you doing?"

"Not well. I feel horrible."

"It's rough, I know," Lindsey said soothingly. "But it'll be worth  
it. You'll be a much stronger person without the pills."

"He said he didn't know what to do," Wesley said, a tear sliding out  
of the corner of his eye. "That he knew I was taking too many pills,  
but didn't know how to tell me to stop. I told him I hated him."

"Good," Lindsey said vehemently. "He needs to hear it once in  
awhile. He should have helped you, confronted you."

Wesley wiped his eyes with the sheet. "No. I did this to myself; I  
should have stopped myself." He sighed heavily. "I am such a fool."

"No. Please, don't. I know my opinion's not worth much, but I don't  
think you're a fool."

Wesley sighed and smiled. "No. Your opinion means a lot. Oh,  
God." He began shivering harder, his body wracked with pain.

"Wesley, what can I do?" Lindsey asked, sounding helpless.

"I don't know. Just talk to me." Wesley rolled over and pulled the  
covers over him, striving for comfort.

"Talk to you," Lindsey repeated. "I'm playing tonight. I was at an  
open-night mic last night and this bar manager heard me and he wants  
me to play at his place tonight."

"Lindsey, that's wonderful."

"I still feel kind of guilty."

"Don't. It's all right. You are alive and should be living." He  
rubbed his cheek against the coolness of the satin sheets.

"Do you want me to play anything for you?" asked Lindsey, almost  
shyly.

Wesley sighed. "Yes, defiantly. Please do."

Over the line, Wesley could hear Lindsey moving, then caressing the  
strings of his guitar before launching into a song. As the almost  
angelic voice floated over the thousand miles distance to lap gently  
at his ear, Wesley's eyes fell shut, his body relaxing. Lindsey's  
voice was a like a drug, he decided, but one with much less harmful  
side effects and much nicer benefits

 

"You were awesome, man!" Gunn exclaimed as he, Wesley, and Angle  
entered the lobby a week later. "Where did you learn to use a sword  
like that?"

Wesley blushed, his eyes shining. "It was nothing."

"Nothing!" Catching sight of Cordelia, Gunn said, "Cordy, you should  
have seen him. Swush swish," Gunn demonstrated Wesley's moves with  
an imaginary sword, which made Wesley blush harder.

Angel clapped a hand on the blushing man's shoulder, giving him a  
gentle squeeze that was almost a caress. "Don't be humble, Wes. You  
did really great."

Wesley was sure the look he gave Angel was too close to adoration,  
but he couldn't help it. He didn't adore Angel, but praise from the  
stoic vampire still provoked that kind of response, no matter how he  
felt. "Thank you."

"It's good to see you fighting again, Wes," Cordelia said. "Oh,  
someone just called for you. He sounded really upset, but wouldn't  
leave his name."

"Oh," answered Wesley, a feeling of foreboding entering him. "Thank  
you."

"Well, I'm going to clean up the weapons. Gunn, want to help?"

"Yeah. Wes?"

Wesley shook his head. "I'm feeling a bit hungry. Do you mind if I  
eat first?"

Angel pushed him towards the kitchen. "Go. Eat. You're too thin."  
With those final words, the vampire and Gunn left.

Wesley grabbed a muffin from the kitchen, then went into his office.  
Closing his door, he sat, gazing at the phone.

There was no reason to pick it up. He had no proof it was anyone.  
It wasn't Lindsey. Most likely. And, if it were, he would call back  
later. Right?

Feeling foolish, Wesley picked up the phone and dialed star 69. It  
traced the last call, and dialed.

At five rings, Wesley tried to convince himself he was being foolish.

At ten, he began drumming his fingers on the desk.

At fifteen, he began to feel ill from anxiety.

At twenty, he began to try and convince himself to hang up.

At twenty-five, he was about to put the receiver down when the  
ringing stopped and someone demanded, "What?"

"Lindsey, it's me! It's Wesley."

There was a moment of tense silence before Lindsey started weeping.  
"Why did you have to call, Wesley? Why did you have to interrupt  
me? I would have been gone, paid for my crimes, out of your life.  
Why?"

Wesley's breath caught. "I don't want you out of my life, Lindsey.  
What's going on?"

"He's here," whispered Lindsey in terror. "He's been here all day.  
I can see him. God, he looks terrible. Waving his stump around,  
half dead. Like a fucking zombie. Why won't he go away?"

This was bad; he knew that Lindsey had been depressed and guilty, but  
delusional? This was a new development. Keeping his voice steady,  
Wesley said, "Lindsey, he's not there. He's dead. He's . ."

"No! Get the fuck away from me! What do you want from me. Go away!"  
Wesley heard three gun shots fire.

He leapt to his feet. "Lindsey!"

Lindsey was panting. "He's gone. Where'd he go?"

"He's not there. He's not real. Put the fucking gun down now! Do it  
now!"

Something thudded over the phone and then there was the sound of a  
door slamming. "It's down. Oh my God. I had that thing to my head.  
Of fuck."

Wesley heard the sound of retching.

"What the hell is going on, Wesley?" Lindsey asked weakly, sounding  
scared.

"Have you been suicidal lately?"

"Not since that first night, I swear. It's just, this morning, I  
woke up and it all closed in around me." He was breathing heavily.

Wesley fought to keep his voice calm, although he wanted to scream  
and demand to know what was going on. He wished Lindsey was there so  
he could hit him. Or shake him. Or . . ."Describe to me what  
happened," he said, breaking off his line of thinking.

Lindsey made a few sounds as if he were going to be ill again, then  
said, "I woke up and it was like everyone whose death I'd been a part  
of was here. Everything I've been hiding, every sin on my soul that  
I've repressed was suddenly in my mind, in my eyes. Then *he *  
came. They were all accusing, telling me I needed to die. I tried  
to fight them, but it was all so much. Then, I called you and you  
weren't there and he came and was. . .he  
wouldn't leave me alone and all I wanted to do was end it."

Wesley rubbed his eyes, thinking. "Describe how you physically felt."

"Uh, sick. My stomach was kinda queasy and I couldn't stop  
sweating. My vision's funny. Everything looks kinda distorted."

"Did anything happen last night? Did you drink anything unusual?"

Lindsey was silent for a moment. "I played a gig and this guy bought  
me a drink."

An intense wave of jealousy hit Wesley, which was foolish because  
someone buying Lindsey a drink while he played didn't mean anything.  
Lindsey wasn't gay and, besides, Wesley didn't care.

"Did you see it being made?" he asked, forcing his jealousy down.

"No."

Wesley exploded, rage coursing though him. "Are you stupid? Never  
accept a drink from a stranger unless you see it made!" He broke  
off, biting his tongue, knowing that lecturing wouldn't help the  
present situation. Instead, he said, "I think you've been enchanted.  
Probably Wolfram and Hart are trying to get you to kill yourself.  
Where are you? What city?"

"Nashville."

Wesley opened the door, looking at the front office. "Cordelia?"

She exited the kitchen. "Yeah?"

"I need you to find the number of a magic shop in Nashville."

"Tennessee?"

"Yes. Quickly, please."

She sat down at the computer. "On it."

Wesley went back into his office, closing his door. "How are you  
doing?"

"I locked myself in the bathroom. There's nothing in here to hurt  
myself with, but I'm calmer now. You do that to me."

He smiled and sat down. "Let me give you my home number so you don't  
always have to call me here. I don't live here."

"Yeah, I know. Which is probably a good thing. I mean, you not  
living there. With Angel. Not that I hate Angel or anything. .  
.well, I do, but, uh, if you were living with him, and ok. . . um,  
what were we talking about?"

"I was going to give you my home number."

"Oh, right."

Wesley, wondering about Lindsey's ramble, gave the man his number.

"Thanks," Lindsey said. "How are you doing? It's been what? A week  
without pills?"

"Yes." Wesley sighed. "It's hard, sometimes. Everything in me was  
so dependent on them. They kept me company, comforted me. Angel has  
been attentive. Over attentive, sometimes. He hovers, he smothers,  
he forces me to eat, makes me rest. It's different."

"I guess it's better that than ignoring you," Lindsey said, his voice  
odd.

"I guess."

Cordelia stuck her head in the office. "Here you go. Do you want me  
to call them?"

"No, I've got it. Thank you."

"No problem." She left.

"Lindsey? Give me your number. I'm going to have to hang up and call  
the shop, telling them your problem. I'll call back."

"Ok." Lindsey gave the number.

Wesley wrote it on a notepad, then tore the paper off, leaving the  
pad on the desk.

"You won't be long?" asked the former lawyer tentatively.

"I hope not. Will you be all right?"

"Yeah, I guess. Bye."

"Bye."  
* * *

Lindsey hung up the phone, leaning his head back against the wall.  
He still felt sick and scared. But not as scared as he had been.  
Wesley would take care of this. Take care of him.

He closed his eyes, trying to summon the image of Wesley Whyndam-  
Pryce to his mind. There had been a picture of him in Angel's files  
that Lindsey had looked at a few times, trying to figure out how to  
use the former Watcher against the vampire. Now he wished he had  
paid more attention to him.

It wasn't right to only have a vague mental image of someone who was  
so very important to you. Not right at all.

* * *

"Why did he need a number for Nashville?" Angel asked Cordelia.

She shrugged. "I don't know. He sounded worried. Maybe someone  
needed help and, God forbid, he helped." She slung her purse over  
her shoulder, gazing at Angel. "This overprotective thing is cute,  
but don't push it. He does need space, you know. Secrets."

"But he seemed upset, you said."

"A bit. But he's fine, Angel."

He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I guess. Ok, so, you're  
going?"

"Yes, I'm off. Anne invited me over to help with this party thing at  
the shelter so, I go. I'm all about community service."

"Not to mention cute blond women," Angel added.

She grinned. "It's a sacrifice, but, yeah. So, see you tomorrow."

"Bye." Angel waited until she was gone before going to Wesley's  
office.

Wesley had torn the top page from the notepad, but that didn't phase  
the vampire. After all, he was a detective - sort of. He rubbed a  
pencil over the marking until the number became clear.

Angel picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Hello?" a voice answered.

The vampire didn't say anything.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

He got it. Angel recognized the voice.

"Wes?"

He slammed the phone down. Why the hell was Lindsey calling Wesley?  
And, more importantly, why hadn't Wesley told Angel that Lindsey was  
calling him?

 

 

A thousand miles apart, Wesley and Lindsey watched together as Meg  
Ryan had an orgasm over a sandwich.

Lindsey cracked up. "I love this scene," he said. "That . . ."

"Shh!" Wesley shushed fiercely.

Lindsey fell silent long enough for the woman on screen to say "I'll  
have what's she's having."

"Sorry," Wesley said, grinning. "I love that line."

"No problem." Lindsey sighed. "See, that's why I like men better  
than women. With a man, you know what you're getting; it's very hard  
to fake anything. I mean, they can not be there mentally, but how  
often is that going to happen? If they come, they're really coming,  
none of this faking shit."

Wesley found he couldn't breathe. He was blushing, heart pounding.  
Lindsey and men? He had no idea. Not that it mattered what gender  
Lindsey preferred, but it was interesting to note.

He couldn't believe how easy it was to lie to himself, even when he  
didn't believe it.

"Wes?" Lindsey said softly, hesitantly.

Taking a deep breath, Wesley replied, "Yes." His voice cracked and  
he swallowed. "Yes, I know what you mean." That was all he said, all  
he could say. But he knew Lindsey understood.

After a moment of silence, Lindsey continued," Of course, the down  
side is that the body of the human male is so damn easy to  
manipulate. Even if you don't want to, a few touches in the right  
place and . . ." He trailed off.

"Who?" Wesley asked softly.

There was a rustle of sheets. "Holland, mostly. Some of the demon  
clients."

"I'm sorry."

"There was actually a clause in my contract that stipulated that I  
whore myself out as pleased the senior partners. I knew what I was  
getting into."

"Does that really matter?"

"No. But, I'll survive. I was born a survivor."

"I'm glad." There was a knock at the door. "Some one is at the  
door." He slipped out of bed.

"Wesley, I need to say something," Lindsey said at the same time.

"Yes?" Wesley asked, stopping in his tracks, heart pounding.

The person knocked again, harder.

"It's just.. . ."

"Wesley?" Angel's voice called though the door.

"Oh bloody hell," Wesley groaned. "Angel is here."

Lindsey sighed. "Why don't you take care of him, then call me back?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

Wesley hesitated, then said, "I call as soon as I can. Bye."

"Bye."

Wesley hung up, put phone down, and opened the door. "Hi. Is  
something wrong?"

Angel held up a paper bag. "No. I just dropped by for a late night  
snack. Am I interrupting something? I heard you talking," The  
vampire stepped into Wesley's apartment, glancing around before  
heading for the kitchen.

"I was on the phone," Wesley answered, wearily. He did not want  
Angel here. Of all the dumb luck. Still, he had asked for a little  
attention from Angel and now he was getting it in spades.

Be careful what you wish for.

"You seem to be on the phone a lot, these days," Angel called from  
the kitchen. Wesley heard the sound of water, then the stove turn  
on.

"Not really," Wesley answered, joining the vampire.

Angel, who was in the process of digging a plate from the cupboard,  
as well as a tea cup, glanced over at Wesley. "Well, you've fallen  
asleep twice now at the Hyperion with the phone glued to your ear in  
the last few months. All this week, any time I try to call you at  
night, the phone's busy and those few days you were in heavy  
withdrawal, you spent all day on the phone."

"All this is, of course, very odd, considering that I have no  
friends, right?"

"That's not what I meant." Angel handed Wesley a plate with a pastry  
on it. "I just . . well, suddenly, you seem to have this friend, but  
you never talk about him to any of us. At least, not with me."

Wesley tilted his head, looking at Angel in a new way. "Is this a  
subtle way to inquire as to whether or not *we * are friends?"

Angel shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know." He checked the tea, then  
pulled some sugar out of the cupboard.

The former Watcher sighed. "I don't know either. I don't know how I  
feel anymore." He began pulling the pastries apart, fingers  
restless. "About anything. Everything is so confusing."

Angel finished making the tea and sat across from Wesley, handing the  
steaming cup to him. "I'm trying not to push, but it's hard. I had  
to watch you isolate yourself for months. You're getting better, but  
I still feel as if you are holding me at a distance, not even willing  
to give me a chance. All I want is a chance."

"I know." Wesley took a sip of the tea, relaxing slightly with the  
peppermint flavor. "I'm trying, but. . .I think, sometimes, that my  
nature is to trust. I want to trust you, but that part of me that  
was so incredibly hurt hasn't healed yet. It's a reflex, one that  
wants to push you away."

"Wesley, I'm sorry."

Wesley put his hand on Angel's leg. "You can keep saying that, but  
it won't necessarily wash it all away. Only time and . . . and  
commitment can do that."

"I can be committed." Angel grinned. "In more ways than one." He  
covered Wesley's hand and squeezed. "I'll wait.

A smile touched Wesley's lips. "Thank you." He turned back to the  
pastry, putting a piece in his mouth.

"I miss this," the vampire remarked, sounding wistful. "You and me,  
hanging out. Remember how we did it a few times before my building  
blew up? And then over the summer at Cordy's?"

Wesley smiled. "Yes, I do. That's how you learned to make my tea  
the right way, always an important thing. And how I found out about  
your weakness for romance novels. Really, Angel." Wesley shook his  
head with mock disappointment.

"They aren't all bad, if you can get passed the plot," protested  
Angel.

"All the plots are the same!"

"Exactly. And once you get passed it, there are some enjoyable  
aspects to them." He grinned and shook his head. "What's the  
stupidest thing you ever did?"

"What?"

"It's a game. What's the stupidest thing you ever did?"

Wesley shrugged. "You mean besides getting addicted to pain pills?"

"Yes."

"I don't know." He took a bite of the pastry, chewing thoughtfully.  
"When I was in school I fell in love with a professor. I wrote him a  
few revealing letters and they, of course, fell out of my folder and  
some students found them. And posted them. Where everyone could  
see. Where he could see." Wesley's cheeks turned pink as he  
remembered the incident. "He was very kind, very lovely about it.  
He explained why it couldn't be, as if I didn't know, and told me not  
to be embarrassed. The day I left school, well, he changed his  
mind. And. . ." He trailed off, eyebrow raised.

"On school grounds?"

Wesley closed his eyes. "In his office. And my father found us. Do  
you know what made him the angriest about the whole situation?"

Angel leaned forward. "What?"

"That he was a lower class than I. Nothing more. " Wesley gave a  
wry smile. "One of the, perhaps, many stupid things I have ever  
done."

"Was he your first?"

Wesley smiled sadly. "No. Not the first. What was the stupidest thing  
that you've ever done? Beyond the obvious."

"Oh, I'd have to say sleeping with Lindsey."

Wesley choked on his tea, face turning red as he coughed. "What?" he  
rasped.

"I slept with Lindsey," Angel repeated. "Back when he came for help  
to get those kids? We slept together a few times."

"Oh," the distraught man managed to get out after a few breaths. "I  
didn't know."

Angel leaned back, smiling. "Now, don't get me wrong. He was awesome  
in the sack. He must have spent most of his life in that position.  
And so easy. I hardly had to say anything and he was panting for it.  
Let's see, I had him in my office over the desk, in my room, in the  
shower, on the stairs. . .I had him suck me off in my car, on the way  
home. Then . . ."

Wesley rose abruptly. "I'm feeling suddenly very tired," he said,  
unable to meet Angel's eyes. "I think I would like to go to bed."

"You hardly ate anything," protested Angel.

Sighing, he picked up the pastry and took a big bite. "Happy?" he  
said around a mouthful.

Angel shrugged and rose. "Well, ok. I hope you sleep well."

"Oh, trust me" Wesley told him with a faint smile, "I will."

"Good night." Angel touched Wesley's cheek gently, then left.

For a long moment Wesley stood, gazing at the door. Sighing, he went  
back into his room. He sat on the bed, turning the video off then  
turned his gaze to the phone. After a long moment of deliberation,  
he picked it up and dialed.

Lindsey picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

"Did you sleep with Angel?"

"What?"

"*Did you * sleep with Angel?" Wesley demanded again.

"Well, yeah, but . . ."

"Thank you." With those final, quiet words, Wesley hung up.

 

* * *  
"Why don't you leave your name?" Cordelia demanded. "You've been  
calling for two days straight! No, Wesley is not available. No, I  
can't tell you when he . .Hey!" She exclaimed as Angel snatched the  
phone.

"Hey. This is Angel. Wesley is not available to talk and you don't  
seem to understand that."

"What did you say to him?" the voice on the other side demanded  
angrily.

"I beg your pardon?" Angel asked politely, a smirk forming on his  
lips.

"What did you say to Wesley?"

"Who is this?"

"Don't fuck with me, you prick! Tell me what the hell you said to  
him!"

Angel blinked acting shocked for an audience that couldn't see him.  
"Boy, someone certainly has a potty mouth." Then, because Cordelia  
was looking at him as if Angel had grown another head, the vampire  
walked away to get some privacy.

"What did you tell him about us? Huh? Did you make me sound like  
some fucking whore? Your little butt boy? Did you tell him that  
I'll fuck everything that moves and seduced you then left you? What  
did you tell him?"

"Oh, Lindsey?" Angel allowed wonder and sudden enlightenment to color  
his tone.

There was the sound of something breaking. "Fuck!" the lawyer swore  
softly before saying, "Yes, this is Lindsey. What did you tell him?"

"The truth. That you acted like a slut. That I barely had to ask  
before you were whoring yourself in my bed. Tell me, Linds, do you  
really think he wants my discarded goods?"

"Why did you have to fuck this up for me?" Lindsey asked, sounding  
defeated. "This was the one thing I had going for me. I did what you  
wanted; I got out of L.A. I wasn't going to come back. Why?"

Possessive anger took over and Angel lowered his voice to a growl.  
"Listen to me, Lindsey. Stay away from him. I mean it. I think  
he's made it clear by now that he doesn't want anything to do with  
you. I don't know why you've been calling him or what the hell has  
been going on, but it stops now. Leave him alone."

There was a silence a moment before Lindsey asked," Angel, do you  
want him? Is that what this is about?"

For a long moment, the vampire didn't say anything.

Lindsey laughed bitterly. "Christ, it is. You want him. And you're  
getting rid of the competition."

"Leave him alone," Angel said, before hanging up. For a moment, a  
bit of doubt crept into him, before he firmly chased it away, feeling  
smug and triumphant instead.

 

Wesley awoke with a start, heart pounding, body flushed. A moan  
escaped his throat, low and deep, vaguely obscene as his eyes flew  
open, erasing the image before him. Darkness filled his eyes and he  
slumped back against his pillow, breathing heavily and damp with  
sweat.

The night was hot and heavy - the dog days of summer. August in  
California was unpleasant to anyone used to cooler, less humid  
climes. He supposed that, had he been from somewhere that  
experienced humidity worse than this, he would be better equiped to  
deal with the weather. Since he wasn't, he was very uncomfortable.

Of course, sweat only accounted for part of the dampness.

"Bloody hell!" he swore, kicking the sheet off him. His pajama  
bottoms were soaked in cum. "Fuck," he began to swear. "Fuck  
Lindsey, fuck fucking dreams, fuck!"

Annoyed, he slid out of bed, storming to the bathroom. It had been  
years since he had a wet dream. Well, months, any way. But Angel  
had thrown himself - naked -on Wesley. Erotic dreams were almost  
expected.

But this was ridiculous. Since he had stopped taking Lindsey's  
calls, nearly two weeks now, every night he had had a dream.

In the bathroom, Wesley pulled the pants off so he was naked and  
picked up a wet cloth.

The ridiculous thing was that he hardly remembered what Lindsey  
looked like. There was only a vague mental impression that he  
treasured - or had treasured, at any rate. The Lindsey of his memory  
was beautiful and seductive: creamy skin, bright blue eyes staring  
out of a handsome face, the wavy hair, soft full lips.

Wesley closed his eyes, picturing Lindsey before him. His shirt was  
off and in the light, he glowed likesome type of god. The lips were  
draw into a knowing smirk. He walked to Wesley and ran his hand down  
his naked body.

The former watcher could almost *feel * the touch. He ran the cloth  
down his stomach, to his hardening cock

Then, Lindsey backed away. Angel appeared, pulling Lindsey to him,  
kissing him. Lindsey responded wantonly, throwing his body on Angel.

"Lindsey, why?" he whispered as he, unable to stop, continued to  
pleasure himself.

Lindsey left Angel and walked back to Wesley. He leaned close, his  
hand reaching down to Wesley's aching member. "Because I met him  
first," he whispered.

Gasping, Wesley came, his seed rushing out into the cloth and over  
his hand.

Drawing in a breath, Wesley cleaned up and went back to his room.  
Just as he had pulled out a pair of pajamas, there was a knock on the  
door.

He pulled the pants on quickly and went to the front room. Looking  
through  
the peep hole, he sighed.

"Hello, Angel," he said, opening the door.

Angel held up a white paper bag. "Snack time," he said cheerily.

Wesley sighed. "Come in." He stepped back, allowing the vampire  
into his house.

Instead of going to the kitchen, Angel sat on the couch. "Come.  
Sit. I've got a surprise."

"What?" asked Wesley warily, sitting next to Angel, facing him.

"Close your eyes."

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Close your eyes. Close." Angel gently pushed Wesley's eyelids down  
with his fingertips.

"Fine. They're closed."

He heard the bag rustling as Angel dug something out.

"Ok. Open your mouth."

With a sigh, Wesley complied. A moment later, something sweet and  
juicy was placed on his tongue.

His eyes flew open as he closed his mouth. He bit the fruit, juice  
squirting out. Closing his eyes again, he savored the taste. "What  
is this?" he asked after swallowing, tongue searching for more.

"Strawberry," Angel replied, sounding pleased. "I heard you telling  
Cordelia that you'd never had any before, so, I thought I'd bring you  
some. What do you think?"

"It's delicious." Wesley reached for another, but Angel nimbly  
evaded his grasp, instead bringing the fruit to Wesley's lips.

The former watcher blushed, but obediently opened his mouth. Angel  
put the rest of the fruit on Wesley's tongue, finger brushing against  
it ever so slightly before withdrawing.

Once again, Wesley allowed himself to be caught up in the wonderful  
taste. He closed his eyes, sighing, wishing there were more as he  
swallowed the last bit.

"Want more?"

"Yes, please?" Wesley, trained all too easily, kept his eyes closed  
and opened his mouth, ready for the next taste.

A moment later, it arrived.

On Angel's tongue.

"Mrgup!" Wesley exclaimed, eyes opening.

Angel held him in place, his tongue transferring ownership of the  
fruit to Wesley with a delicate movement. He began mashing the  
strawberry, gentle strokes teasing and tasting the inside of Wesley's  
mouth, touching each sensitive area lightly before darting away to  
discover a new section, lavishing every bit with equally devoted  
attention.

Wesley shuddered from the pleasure of Angel's talented tongue, eyes  
closing as he reflexively pressed his bare chest to the vampire's.

Waiting until the last possible moment, Angel pulled back, looking  
mildly regretful. One cool, smooth hand slid up Wesley's arm to rest  
at the juncture where his neck met his shoulder. "Well?"

Dumbstruck, Wesley swallowed, breathing hard. "Ah. . ." He didn't  
know what  
to say.

Encouraged, Angel set the bag aside, pulling Wesley closer into his  
embrace. Their lips met again, satin on satin, brushing gently,  
before Angel's tongue began to trace the outline of the lips beneath  
his once again.

Wesley hesitated, but Angel, with gentle force, pushed insistently.  
The mortal opened, allowing the vampire access. Angel lay Wesley on  
his back,against the couch his hand sliding down to the former  
Watcher's nipple. Taking the sensitive nub between his finger and  
thumb, the vampire began to tease the nipple, pulling and twisting it  
gently, kneading it into hardness.

Wesley whimpered into the vampire's mouth as waves of pleasure began  
to wash through him.

He had been caught unprepared for this. Never in his wildest dreams  
had he imagined being seduced by Angel. He had no defense, no plan  
of attack, no way to escape. If he wanted to escape, which he  
wasn't sure of.

After all, there was no reason *not * to allow this to happen.

As if on cue, the phone rang.

Startled, Wesley began to pull away, but Angel followed, trapping the  
former Watcher with his superior strength.

After a few rings, the machine picked up.

/ This is the number for Wesley Whyndam-Pryce. Please leave a  
message / The machine beeped.

"Hi, Wesley, this is Lindsey."

Wesley jerked away from Angel, locking his elbow to hold the vampire  
at a distance.

" Look," Lindsey continued, "I know you're mad at me and I'm sorry.  
I never meant to hurt you. Listen, I don't know what he told you or  
why he did. ..well, I know why he did, but never mind. If you're  
with him, that's ok; I just want for you to be happy, really,I do.  
But I have to say this. Wesley, you weren't a second choice, if  
that's what you think. Angel never really was a choice, he just  
happened. Situational tension and lust, that's all.  
It wasn't love and it didn't mean enough to keep me there. I wasn't  
calling you, talking to you, because Angel wasn't there that first  
night. *You * are my choice, Wes. Don't undervalue yourself by  
thinking that . . that no one could want you when there are other  
people." Lindsey sighed. "I want to talk to you. Please. At least  
. ..at least let me say good-bye. Call me, please." He left a  
number and hung up.

There was a long moment of silence before Wesley, still in Angel's  
arms, looked up at him. Licking his swollen lips, he remarked,  
"Funny how he thinks I might be with you. It's only been two weeks  
and he knows how I've felt about you lately."

"Maybe he's got the place bugged. Spying on you," Angel suggested.

Wesley raised an eyebrow. "I don't think so." He sat up, forcing the  
vampire off him, then moved to the arm of the couch. "How long have  
you known?"

Angel sighed and rested his head on the cushions. "Since that day  
you called him in Nashville. I made a copy of the number and called  
him. I needed to know who you were talking to."

"Why?"

"Possessiveness. Jealousy. Take your pick."

Wesley rubbed his eyes wearily. "And you told me that the two of you  
slept together to make me angry? To make me not trust him? To make  
me think that I didn't matter?"

Angel closed his eyes. "You needed him, Wesley, and I didn't want you  
to need anyone but me."

"Do you want me to need you because you see me as your possession,  
or because you love me?"

Angel met Wesley's eyes. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "But  
. . I feel for you. A lot. It hurts me that you're angry with me,  
that you don't love me anymore."

"You didn't want my love when I had it," responded Wesley quietly.  
After a pause, during which he gazed into Angel's eyes, he said, "I  
didn't do this because of you, as a form of rebellion. He needed  
help, then I needed help, then we realized we got along. He made me  
happy."

"I want to make you happy."

"Well, you started badly." Wesley rose. "I think it's time for you  
to go."

The vampire rose as well. "Yeah, sure. You're going to call him,  
aren't you?"

"I might." Wesley bit his lip. "This isn't a rejection, Angel. I  
just need time to sort this all out. Please?"

Angel nodded. "Ok. See you tomorrow?"

"Yes."

Before he left, Angel leaned into Wesley and gently brushed their  
lips together. Pulling back only slightly, he whispered, "Good-  
night," before he left with silent grace.

Wesley closed the door behind Angel, then leaned against it, sighing  
heavily. Just a year ago he had dreamed of the vampire wanting him -  
desiring him. Now? It was different, everything was different.

He wandered back to the couch and hit the replay button the answering  
machine, listening carefully.

"I want to talk to you. Please. At least . ..at least let me say  
good-bye. Call me, please."

After a moment of deliberation, Wesley picked up the phone and dialed.

Lindsey answered on the first ring. "Hello?"

He hesitated long enough for Lindsey to say, "Wesley? Is that you?"

"Yes."

"Hey. How are you?" asked Lindsey softly.

"All right. You?"

"Terrible. I miss you. I . . .I'm sorry I fucked up. I never meant  
. . ..this won't help, I know, but it didn't mean enough to me to  
even think about bringing it up. And I know it didn't mean all that  
much to him, either. If it had, I would have told you. Honest."

Wesley shut his eyes. "How did it happen?"

Lindsey sighed. "It just did. I spent the night there, the night  
before We did the rescue. It just . . I was scared and looking for  
something mindless. I came onto him. I thought . . I thought that  
sleeping with him would, I don't know,. You know that part of him  
that's the hero? I guess I was kinda hoping that it would rub off on  
me. And after the rescue, he took me back to his place. He didn't  
kick me out and . . ."

"Was it a way to say thank you?" Wesley finished.

Lindsey laughed bitterly. "Yes and no. I didn't feel obligated, if  
that's what you're thinking." He sucked in a breath. " I probably  
just lost you with that, didn't I?"

Wesley shook his head, not caring that his companion couldn't see  
him. "No, you didn't. I prefer honesty." Lying down, stretching out  
on the couch, Wesley asked, "Was he good?"

"Yeah. He was. But, he wasn't worth it, not for me. There were  
times that . . .that he made me feel like the whore I know I am. I  
felt empty. Used. But, I don't mean that if you . . . I mean he  
probably won't do that to you. He likes you. He wants you."

"Yes, I know." Wesley sighed. "He tried to seduce me. If you  
hadn't called. . ." he trailed off unable to finish. It all seemed  
so unreal.

Lindsey was silent.

Anxious, Wesley asked, "Lindsey?"

"I can leave you alone. If you like," Lindsey said, sounding  
defeated. "Stop calling. Ever again. If you want me to."

"No." Distress colored Wesley's words. "I'm . . .I'm confused,  
Lindsey. I've missed you, missed having you to talk to." Wesley  
stared at the ceiling, feeling anxious and unsure. "I'm confused  
about everything. You. Angel. Me. What I want. I don't know. I  
need. . .I need some time to think."

"I can give you time," Lindsey responded immediately. "I can wait  
until you know what you want. And I don't care which of us you want,  
as long as you are sure it's best for you. I mean . . I'm falling in  
love with you, so of course there is that part that would prefer you  
. . .anyway. There. I've said it." Lindsey sounded as if he had  
flung himself off a cliff and was waiting to see if he would fall or  
fly.

Wesley stayed very still, his heart fluttering in this chest, hardly  
breathing. If he moved, then he would wake up and Lindsey's words  
weren't real. He didn't want to wake. He wanted always to stay in  
this dream.

He liked this dream.

"Wes? Did I scare you?" Lindsey inquired hesitantly.

"No," Wesley whispered.

There was a sigh of relief. "Good. Listen, I'm in Las Vegas right  
now. I'm afraid to come into California, but I would like to see  
you. If you want to see me. I can come if . . ."

"No, I don't think you're coming here is a good idea," Wesley said,  
sitting up. See Lindsey?

"Ok. I have to go back to New York at the end of the week. I'm  
talking with an agent. He seems . .really good. But, when that's  
done, I'll be coming back to get my truck."

"I don't know."

"I'll be here all week, until Sunday. Just think about it?"

Wesley nodded. "I will. I'm . . .I'm glad you called."

There was a smile in Lindsey's voice. "Yeah. Me too."

 

 

Wesley entered the Hyperion the next day, carrying the bag Angel had  
left at his flat the night before.

Angel, at the front desk looking at a large text, glanced up. "Hi."

"Hi. Where are Cordelia and Gunn?"

"Cordy's at an audition, Gunn is with his old crew."

"Ah." Wesley set the bag on the front desk. "You were planning  
quite a night. Whipped cream, honey. Were you planning on fucking  
me or devouring me?"

The vampire gave him a slight smile. "Making love, I believe is the  
nicer term. Fucking is more .. . .well, it's something else."

Wesley's face hardened. "Like what you did with Lindsey."

Angel sighed. "Yeah. Like what I did with Lindsey."

The former watcher nodded once and slid the bag across the counter.  
"Here. I'll be in my office." With one last glance, Wesley went into  
his office, and shut the door.

* * *

"Listen, Wes," Angel said Tuesday night as the former Watcher readied  
to leave. "I know you need time, but do you have any idea when I  
might know anything?"

Wesley, his cheek bruised from a battle with a Rythpt demon earlier  
that evening, raised an eyebrow. "Are you getting bored?"

"No, of course not. I just. . .was wondering."

"I'm not sure. Sorry." He didn't feel very sorry. Turning to Gunn,  
he asked, "Are you ready?" Wesley asked, looking at his friend.

Gunn pulled his keys out of his pocked. "Yeah, English. Let's go."

On the drive home, Wesley pulled something out of his pocket. "I'm  
leaving tonight," he said, scribbling something on a card.

Gunn glanced over at Wesley, surprise written across his face.  
"Leaving? Where?"

The former watcher smiled at the concern in his friend's voice.  
"Don't worry, I'm coming back. I'm taking a trip to Las Vegas.  
There's someone I need to see there."

Gunn studied him for a moment. "Does this have anything to do with  
Angel acting all weird around you lately? Overprotective and  
possessive and all that shit? Because, if it is, I'll be happy to  
tell him to back off."

Wesley shook his head. "Thank you, but no. Not yet. Angel has  
gotten it into his head that he might be in love with me. I don't  
think that's the case. I think it's more of a possession thing. But,  
he's only part of the poblem. There is simply someone I need to  
see. Just to see . . . if I .. ."

"Wes?" Gunn prodded as the former Watcher trailed off.

Wesley rubbed his forehead. "Can I tell you when I come back?"

"Promise?"

"Yes. Here. This is the number of where I will be. I will try and  
call you in two days. If I don't. . .well, I don't think he's been  
lying to me, but if I don't, assume I've been abducted - hopefully  
not killed - and come after me."

Gunn, stopping in front of Wesley's flat, took the number. "Are you  
trying to scare me? What the hell is going on, Wes?"

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," Wesley said.

"How can you know what you're doing if you're sitting here, telling  
me that if you don't call in two days to assume you've been  
kidnapped? Wesley, where are you going?"

Wesley put his hands over his face. "To see some one that I'm. . .  
that I . . .I need to see how I feel about . .. .about him. And I'm  
afraid Angel will do something if he finds out before I leave."

The young warrior was silent for a moment. Then, he slid his arm  
around Wesley's shoulder. "You want me to come with you?"

"No. I have to do this alone. At this point, anything that I have  
to face is better than becoming Angel's. . ..possession."

"Right." Gunn sighed. "I don't like this, Wesley, but I can't stop  
you. Just, please, you know how to fight. Don't let anyone hurt  
you. Anyone. Do what's right for you."

Wesley raised his face, looking into the serious eyes of his friend.  
He nodded once. "Yes. I will. Thank you."  
* * *

Lindsey sat on his bed, strumming his guitar. He'd been trying to  
write a song for three days and it just wouldn't come. It was  
probably because he had no optimism anymore.. When he had Wesley in  
his life, the songs came easily. He would wake up, brush his teeth,  
write a song, eat breakfast, revise the song, find the right melody,  
eat lunch, work and, by sunset, would have the perfect song to  
describe the type of feeling he was going  
For

Now, he was all dried up. Nothing would come, not even he simplest  
tune.

He sighed and strummed the strings. "Well, can't write country, I  
guess. Look what I've lost and I can't even sing it," he said to  
himself.

He knew he was being melodramatic. After all, he wasn't a child;  
writer's block was temporary, unless you died before you were over  
it. Still, that was cold comfort when you were stuck in the middle  
of a brain freeze, unable to produce anything.

The phone rang, interrupting his musings.

Lindsey, suddenly hopeful, lunged across the bed, dropping his guitar  
in his haste. "Hello?"

"Lindsey, it's me. I'm almost to Las Vegas. Can I see you?" Wesley  
asked hesitantly.

Dumbstruck, Lindsey couldn't say anything. He simply sat there,  
staring at the bed spread, breathing.

"Lindsey?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry," Lindsey said, waking. "Of *course * you can  
see me. God, I . . .. Yeah. I'm staying at this inn off the Strip.  
There's a diner across the street; meet me there?"

"All right. Just give me the directions."

Lindsey supplied them, said good-bye, and hung up. A dopey grin  
spread across his face as he stared at the wall.

He couldn't believe it.

 

 

Wesley pulled his car in the diner's parking lot and turned off the  
engine. For a long moment, he sat there, hands at a perfect ten and  
two, gazing straight ahead. This was ludicrous. He'd driven all the  
way from L.A. to see a man whose face he could barely remember. To  
see a man who had been his enemy for most of their acquaintance. It  
was Silly. Absurd.

He'd never seen himself as absurd before, but, when faced with facts,  
all one could do was accept the truth.

Sighing, he glanced at himself in the mirror. He looked a mess.  
That was to be expected. After all, he'd been driving for almost six  
hours. He ran a hand though his hair, pulled his red button down  
shirt on over his black tee, and left the car.

Lindsey was sitting outside the diner. When he saw Wesley, he rose.

Wesley walked to Lindsey and stopped. For a long moment, they stood  
there, studying each other.

Lindsey was even more handsome than Wesley remembered. Soft, wavy  
hair, pouty lips, confident manner. Wesley felt wildly inadequate  
standing so near to his perfection. Awkward, sweaty and unattractive.

The smaller man's face broke out in a wondering smile. "God, you're  
beautiful," he said, eyes roaming over Wesley's body.

Wesley blushed, his breath catching. "Thank you. You . . .It's good  
to see you."

"Yeah. You too." He bit his lip, gazing at Wesley for another  
moment. "Want to go inside? Get out of the heat?"

"Yes. Please."

They entered the diner and sat down. It was empty, being an off time  
of day,  
so a waitress waited on them immediately.

"Just coffee," Lindsey said.

"The same, please."

After the waitress had gone, Lindsey remarked, "I thought you'd get  
tea. Peppermint, right?"

Wesley smiled, pleased that Lindsey remembered him describing his  
favorite tea. "Yes. But not from a place like this. Somehow, it  
never tastes quite right, but, on occasion these small places can  
make the most extraordinary coffee. Thank you," he said as the  
waitress placed a steaming mug in front of him.

Lindsey took a sip of his. "I've noticed that too. How did you . .  
oh, right. Your rogue demon hunter days." He said it with a smile.

"Yes. I ate at quite a few places like this." Wesley sat back, a  
smile playing on his lips. "Washed quite a few dishes as well. I've  
only come into money recently, with my father's death. Before that,  
after being fired from the Council, cash was hard to come by."

"When I was in college, it was like that. I had just enough to pay  
for tuition, but not quite enough to eat. Right now I'm still good  
with money. I put a lot away, but keep expecting it to disappear.  
You know, when the firm. . .if the firm decides to kill me or  
something." He took another drink, gulping the steaming liquid down  
quickly. "Sorry about your father. I didn't know that he had died."

"It's ok. Not many people know. He and I . . .we had a strained  
relationship to begin with. Getting fired only served as a way for  
him to disassociate himself from me." Wesley grimaced. "An excuse  
not to have to talk to me any more. I assumed he wrote me out of his  
will, but he didn't. Sole surviving heir."

Lindsey cocked his head. "Sole surviving heir," he repeated. "Are  
you rich?"

Wesley nodded. "Yes."

"Oh." He seemed to shrink into himself before saying, "I've never  
been rich until Wolfram and Hart. There's this part of me . .." he  
trailed off and shook his head. "No, I do feel bad, really. That's  
why I left; I couldn't deal with it anymore. But I can't give the  
money up, not yet, just because. . .I mean, I guess if I was a hero,  
I would. But I'm not. And I'm not going to go around, seeking  
redemption or anything. I'm just going to do what's good for me. As  
long as I don't, I don't know, really hurt anyone else. But, yeah."  
He set his chin, looking slightly defiant, but didn't quite meet  
Wesley's gaze.

The former Watcher sighed. "If you wanted me to start hating you,  
you should have done it before I drove out here. It's too late now;  
unless you confess to a hideous murder, I'm not going to judge you.  
And, I don't expect you to do anything; you made bad choices, you're  
through with that, you're moving on. No one is asking you to do any  
more."

Lindsey looked down at the table. For a long moment, neither man  
said anything, just sipped their coffee. Finally, Lindsey asked, "Why  
are you here?"

"You wanted to see me. And. . .and I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

Wesley laughed softly. "I could ask you the same question."

The lawyer looked up, drumming his right hand on the table. "Isn't  
it obvious? I mean, I told you that I . . ."

"Oh, Lindsey!" Wesley interrupted, distressed. He reached across the  
table and grabbed Lindsey's right hand. "What did you do?"

"It's not what it looks like," Lindsey said guiltily. His hand was  
covered in deep cuts, mostly healed.

Wesley traced the scars gently. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't do it on purpose. Well, not hurt myself on purpose."

"Then what happened?"

He sighed. "I kinda put my hand through a window. That's all. When  
Angel told you what he did. I was pissed and he was there, taunting  
me with the fact that he probably had you. It just seemed . . .too  
much. To deal with. Too frustrating."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry what he did to you." Wesley gazed into  
Lindsey's eyes, asking for forgiveness.

"Don't be sorry," the smaller man replied, shaking his head. "It  
wasn't your fault. Don't ever think that it was your fault."

A smiled touched Wesley's lips as his long, elegant fingers caressed  
the skin as if trying to rub the wounds away. "This one is  
different." He traced a long white scare that ran from the base of  
Lindsey thumb to his wrist.

Lindsey suppressed a shudder. "Yeah, that one was deliberate. It's  
where I cut myself. Our first night." He took a deep breath. "Can  
I . . .can I touch you?" he asked, his voice roughened by desire.

Gray eyes met his, wide with surprise and something else. "Yes,"  
Wesley whispered.

With a shaking hand, Lindsey reached out and gently touched Wesley's  
cheek. He slid his hand over the smooth skin, caressing gently,  
closing his eyes against the sensation, fingers moving to thread in  
the short, silky hair.

"Can we go some where else?" Wesley asked hesitantly. "Alone?"

Lindsey's eyes popped open. "Alone?"

Wesley nodded.

"Yeah. Ok. Is my room all right?"

"That will be fine." Wesley rose, taking Lindsey's hand in his.

They paid for the coffee and crossed the street to Lindsey's hotel  
room. There were three rooms: a living room, kitchen, and bedroom.  
Sleeping on the couch, was a kitten , tail in her mouth. When the two  
men entered, she raised her head, opening her eyes sleepily, and gave  
a small "me-ow" before going back to sleep.

"Oh, that's my cat. Micah. She's a stray that I'm thinking of  
keeping," Lindsey said, closing the door.

"She's very pretty," Wesley replied. He pulled away from Lindsey,  
glancing around the small, apartment-style room. "This is very nice  
for something not a thousand dollars a night."

"Thanks. I like this place better than the big hotels; more  
privacy." He shifted his weight. "I was figuring, if you wanted to  
stay and . . not . . well, you can take the bed and I can have the  
couch. You know, if. . ."

"Weren't you planning on seducing me? Aren't you?" Wesley asked,  
facing Lindsey.

The lawyer shrugged. "I'm afraid to try. Afraid of pushing you  
away. You set the rules. The pace."

Wesley bit his lip, pulling the red over shirt off and dropping it on  
a chair. "Were you ever in love with Angel?"

Lindsey shook his head. "No. He and I . . there was no he and I. It  
was just fucking. That's all."

Slowly, Wesley stepped closer to Lindsey. "Are you in love with me?"

"I think so. Yeah. I mean, I am." He took a small step closer to  
Wesley.

"How can you love someone you've never kissed?" He took another step.

"I don't know." Lindsey stepped closer. "How can you not love the  
person whose voice comforts you, gives you hope? Floats in your  
dreams?" Lindsey took another step, then reached for Wesley's hand.

After a moment's hesitation, Wesley slid his hand in Lindsey's. They  
leaned into each other, lips brushing lightly, tasting, before  
pulling back.

The former Watcher licked his lips, then, in a sudden movement,  
pressed his body to Lindsey's. Their lips met again, hot, hungry,  
months of passion built up from miles apart releasing onto each other.

Lindsey entwined their other hand. The taller man broke their mouths  
apart, keeping their bodies flush.

"And now?"

Lindsey smiled and kissed the underside of Wesley's jaw. "Now I'm  
even more convinced."

"So am I." Wesley pulled away and walked into the bedroom.

For a moment, Lindsey stayed in place, smiling stupidly. He couldn't  
believe this was happening. He wanted to ask if this was right,  
afraid that he was pushing Wesley, even though it his love that had  
obviously just walked into this bedroom without any pressing.  
Finally, he shook himself and went into the bedroom.

The taller man was sitting on the bed wearing only a pair of boxers.  
When Lindsey entered, he smiled. "I was afraid you'd changed your  
mind."

Lindsey pulled his shirt off and went to the bed. Using his body to  
push Wesley onto his back, he whispered throatily, "Never," before  
claiming the soft lips beneath his.  
* * *

The next morning, Wesley woke. For a long moment, he stared at the  
ceiling, absurdly happy. Then, after leaning over and lightly  
kissing his lover, he slid out of bed and walked - naked - into the  
living room.

Micah, the kitten, was playing with a dust ball. When she saw  
Wesley, she meowed, demanding to be petted. Wesley sat on the couch,  
allowing the cat to curl next to him. He picked up the phone,  
dialed, then began stroking the cat.

"Hello?"

Wesley took a deep breath. "Hi, Angel. It's Wesley."

There was a long pause before Angel said guardedly, "Hi." Then,  
after another pause, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Happy, too."

"Good. Fine. Happy. Great." The vampire's tone was anything but  
happy.

"Angel, he was willing to lose me to you. He wanted me to chose what  
was best for me." No need to say who.

"So I should too? Is that what you're saying?" Angel asked, sounding  
bitter.

Wesley frowned. "I would hope that, after the disappointment, you  
could."

"Right. Why don't you just tell me how to feel about everything now,  
Wesley?" the vampire asked harshly. Then he sighed. "When are you  
coming home?"

He hesitated before answering, knowing that the vampire would not be  
happy with his decision. "Not for a while," Wesley finally said. "I  
think I'm going to New York with Lindsey."

"Why?" Angel sounded upset.

Wesley hesitated. "I want some time with him. To get to know him.  
To live with him. And . .I'm afraid to go back to you just now."

"I wouldn't . . ."

"Angel, whether you admit it or not, you see me as your possession.  
You may not intend to punish me, but just in case, I think we should  
spend some time apart. Nothing has gotten much better between us and  
I'm happy where I am. Please understand that . .."

"Fine. Whatever. Enjoy your fucking honeymoon." Angel slammed down  
the phone.

Sighing, Wesley hung up and dialed a new number. After explaining  
the situation to Gunn and securing his blessing , Wesley hung up.  
For a long moment, he sat there, petting the cat, drifting from  
depression to happiness. Finally, he rose, and went into the bedroom

Lindsey was awake, staring at the ceiling.

"Are you leaving?" he asked without looking at Wesley.

Wesley laid in the bed, sliding his hand across Lindsey's bare  
stomach. "No," he said, leaning down to kiss his lover's chest.  
"No, I'm not. Can I go with you? To New York?"

Amazed blue eyes met his. "You want to go with me?"

"Yes. I can't say for how long, but right now, all I want to be is  
with you." He slid up Lindsey's body, kissing him gently.

Lindsey wrapped his arms around Wesley, deepening the kiss. "I'm  
asking you to come to me, be with me, stay with me. I make no  
demands, expect nothing grand, I just ask you to stay for as long as  
you can," he whispered into Wesley's neck.

"That sounds like a song," Wesley whispered back.

His lover grinned. "It just might be, Wes. It just might be."

~Fin~


End file.
